


They Don't Always Come First

by ravenswritingdesk



Category: Vampire Academy Series - Richelle Mead
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon-Typical Violence, Dhampirs, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protectiveness, Vampire Family, moroi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 14:30:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenswritingdesk/pseuds/ravenswritingdesk
Summary: Young Dimitri has had enough of his father and finally stands up to the deadbeat Moroi.





	They Don't Always Come First

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I don't often write fighting scenes, so this is going to be kind of 'eek'. But at the same time, it kind of makes sense to me because it's a pissed off 13 year old half-vampire with some basic training in fighting, versus a drunk 30-something year old vampire that doesn't know the first thing about fighting. Dimitri's goal isn't to be professional here, though. He's all rage, here. He just wants to make sure his father thinks twice about visiting, ever again.

Dimitri could hear the voice of his father raising in the living room. _They come first_ was a phrase that was drilled into his brain since he'd turned of age enough to understand words and their meaning, and typically it was always directed at the Moroi.

Tonight, they _wouldn't_ come first. Tonight, they were the source of danger and their name was Randall. 

Randall Ivashkov was a deadbeat at best, and an abusive, violent drunk at his worst. Dimitri preferred the _deadbeat_. Deadbeat meant Randall wasn't here to terrorize them, all. 

For years, he'd been helpless to do anything. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't quick enough. He had to watch and listen, and it was _agony_. Tonight would be different. He was growing into his physical power as a dhampir and with the help of his instructors at St. Basil's Academy, he'd already significantly honed his skills as a fighter. He wasn't perfect, but he knew enough and he wasn't going to stop until the message was loud and clear. 

His drunk "father" wouldn't stand a chance against him, but he didn't care. It'd never been a fair fight for Olena. She didn't like fighting and didn't know how to, to begin with, but she took the brunt of the beatings for her children, because she didn't want _them_ to suffer. 

_Why should he make it fair for Randall?_, he thought. 

Opening the door to his bedroom, he didn't even bother trying to be quiet as he stormed into the living room. He was really only thirteen years old, but he was strong for his age, and already nearly six feet tall. Brown eyes were blazing with rage as they focused in on Randall. Randall was too drunk to even pay attention to his son entering, and he didn't realize Dimitri was even in the room until his face had been slammed into the wall. 

Dimitri had grabbed Randall by the back of his designer blazer, and pulled him sharply away from Olena before using the momentum to throw Randall harshly into the nearest wall. "No!" he shouted at Randall, his Russian accent thick. He wanted to cry, but the moisture seemed to dry up in his throat, his voice cracking with every word. "You're not doing this again! I've had to stay back for years and watch you beat my mother." 

"Th' fuck'r you doin' out 'ere, kid? Go back t'your room, i's not any of your fuckin' business what me'n your mom are up to," Randall slurred, wiping his face. He watched as Dimitri placed himself between Randall and his mother. 

"мама, иди, сейчас же," Dimitri warned Olena, his eyes only flickering to her for a second before locking back onto Randall. His father's green eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of whatever expensive spirit he'd been binging, that night. "You're a coward, and I want you gone. Get out, or I swear, I _will_ beat you the way you've beaten her." 

"Hey now, no. You're not fuckin' going anywhere, _blood whore_," Randall growled, moving as if he was going to grab Olena's arm. Immediately, Dimitri's hand was on his father's forearm as it outstretched towards her, and Dimitri's elbow connected hard with Randall's nose. A sputtering cough, and blood leaked out of Randall's nostrils. His lip also bled, cut from where the soft flesh had collided with one of his fangs. 

"FUCK!" Randall exclaimed in pain, doubled over for a moment. Standing up, his lip was healed already but it'd take time for his nose to stop swelling. "Get your ass over here, boy. I'll show you to put a hand on your fuckin' father," he snarled. His upper lip was coated in blood, and his nose was already red with swelling. 

Randall stumbled toward him and grabbed a bottle, swinging it forward. Dimitri was seething, and once Randall had slung those filthy words at his mother, Dimitri had truly snapped. Lunging forward and narrowly dodging Randall's attack, he knocked Randall onto the floor. Dimitri kept Randall's body pinned by his knee, and his fist started flying. Over and over, his knuckles collided with Randall's face, his other hand clutched tightly in the white button-up. 

It wasn't until Dimitri's hand was covered in a thin sheen of blood that he finally stopped punching. "You're _not_ my father, you're _nothing_ to me." Grabbing Randall's shirt by the collar and pulling him to his feet, he dragged the Moroi man by his collar. Shoving Randall face-first into the wall none-too-gently, Dimitri pulled open the front door and grabbed Randall again, shoving him outside into the open air. Randall stumbled to his knees, coughing and grunting in pain before turning on his back to see Dimitri standing above him. 

"Don't ever come back here. Do you hear me? You're not _welcome_ here. _Get. Out._ If you ever think of coming back to Baia, I want you to think of me, and what I did to you, tonight." 

Dimitri watched as his father skulked off. How Randall got here, and how he'd get out of here, he didn't care. As soon as Randall was out of sight, he went back inside and locked the door behind him. 

"Dimka?" he heard his mother say as she stuck her head out curiously. "Dimka, are you okay?" 

"It's okay. I'm okay. He's not going to come around here anymore." 

Olena wasn't sure what to say. She'd heard the fighting from her room, and seeing Dimitri's fist covered in blood made her sigh. Wordlessly, she enclosed her son in her arms, petting at his brown hair in appreciation. 

Dimitri's arms moved to hug Olena tightly in return, his cheek pressing into her head. "I love you, mom. I'm going to go get cleaned up, now."


End file.
